


Soldier's Poem

by MoodyAquarius



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Dean in Hell, Destiel - Freeform, First Contact, First Meetings, Hell Fic, M/M, Season 3 Finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:37:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1298461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoodyAquarius/pseuds/MoodyAquarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is in hell, Sam is broken and lost, and an angel has been granted a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Guiding Light

**Author's Note:**

> Collab with my magnificent friend Avery and deanfucker.tumblr.com for the brilliant headcanon I was so graciously allowed to use! Seriously this whole story comes from this idea:  
> "Cas and Dean fell in love while the angel was rebuilding him and restoring his soul but once Dean surfaced on earth he didn't remember any of it and Cas has been subtly trying to remind him ever since" 
> 
> It's the most brilliant idea I've ever heard for Destiel and I'm so psyched to write this! More chapters to come ~

** 1\. Guiding Light **

_ Listen, I understand I’m out of options here… and I promised I wouldn’t do this. _

          Dismal light shone through and crawled lazily across the dingy carpet of probably the fifth motel Sam had squatted in this month. The stench of unwashed dishes and decaying food assaulted the air and penetrated deep into the mold between the walls, a well kept secret of “Luxury Inn”. A trail led logically to where the large, muscular man was collapsed unconscious in a pile of torn up sheets. He heard the faint sound of the door shutting after the “night entertainment” had strapped on her heels and taken her leave. 

  He groaned a long, dragged sigh and willed himself to open his eyes. He stared at the ceiling, waking again to another empty day. He rubbed his sleep-sore eyes and threw the covers away from his body, pulling on a pair of sweats and trudging over to the door where he kept his pull up bar. The only thing that seemed to help at all was pushing his muscles to the point of exhaustion every day, the strain at least got his mind to focus on something other than his depressing, lonely life. 

After pushing himself to the point of soreness and fatigue, he collapsed into the small couch. Collapsing was a common action of his, along with sighing and staring. He hadn’t had a real conversation with anyone since the incident. He felt physical pain throb in his chest when he even mentioned it to himself. He threw his empty gaze over to the stack of CDs and cassette tapes that he carried with him wherever he went. They had accumulated dust over the weeks he’d been staying here. 

“Sammy, appreciate the classics” His eyes welled up as his brain tortured him with the memory of the sound of his brother scolding him for not appreciating his classic rock collection. Silent tears ran down his cheeks and it only got worse as he remembered Dean say, “House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his cake hole.” 

The vividness of the sound of his big brother’s voice in his mind drove him to full bodied sobs and forced him into a weak crumple, cradling his aching head in his shaking hands. He’d promised he wouldn’t do anything to bring Dean back, he promised he wouldn’t make any stupid deals, but how could Dean honestly expect him to live like this? 

“Listen, I understand I’m out of options here… and I promised I wouldn’t do this… but  I’m not strong enough. If there’s any sort of a God out there, please,” he fell to his knees in tears, “Please, you have to do something. I can’t do this… It’s not f-air.” He didn’t care if anyone heard him through these paper thin walls, the grief overcame any instinct of social normalcy. “I  need  him, he’s all I’ve got. He’s all I’ve ever had. If there’s anyone in charge, watching over this bullshit place, you know I’ve done nothing to deserve this!” His voice broke as he groaned and whimpered “please” over and over again before exhausting himself from his pleas. 

 

 ****

**  
**            “Yes, I believe that’s the right choice for that species at the moment. Proceed.” I nodded and gave a small smile to my brother Gabriel, then walked on through the garden, admiring the blooming flowers. Light enfolded and provided strength for every little growing thing in this gorgeous and bountiful garden. I often found myself admiring my father’s work when I was not busied with the important tasks laid before me. 

Smiles and familiar essences surrounded me, this is home. This is love, and all that I know. I’d decided I was done admiring the garden for now, and retired to my little patch of home, comfortably settling into my surroundings. I stared blissfully at the whiteness surrounding me and gently closed my eyes to rest. 

“Castiel.” I cringed at the incredible volume and strength of that booming voice I’d remembered only in distant dreams. My eyes snapped open and I snapped my attention up, ready for anything that voice would say. I filled with purpose and fear at the deep, resounding boom of my father’s voice, standing stick straight, awaiting whatever his blessed voice would bestow upon me.

“There has been a grave crime committed. I am in need of your service, my child.”

I filled with ambition and gusto to do anything the voice commanded, responding dotingly, “Anything, father.”

“Hell has greedily taken one of my favorite creations,” He sounded gravely serious and angry, his voice rolled through me like a hurricane and I had to use every bit of my strength to stand straight. “Dean Winchester does not belong in hell. I need you to return his soul to earth, he has much to do for us.” I was horribly confused, but could not argue or question my father’s orders.

“At once.” As soon as I had uttered the words, the presence was gone. I collapsed and tried in vain to gather myself. FATHER had just spoken, to ME. It had been millenia since he had directly contacted me and I was filled with electric light. Finally, my purpose. I had never doubted he had something in store for me. After my fit of surprise, I rapidly gathered myself and left to call a meeting to announce the news to my family. 

**  
**

Total utter darkness, this is what I woke up to, and I kept wishing it would stay this way. But always, it was only dark when I opened my eyes, then the burning began as red-hot light struck like a lightning bolt and into my pores. I felt every bit of that lightning strike cut me in half then mend me back together to do it again. This was my wake up call. 

After the scalding, cutting and sewing, I became aware of the hooks once more. My mind somehow found the ability to become numb to the pain, except that every time I forgot, I was reminded with a lashing and a tug on my cables. This was unbearable, because the tiniest touch to a mile off my cables struck me like a freight train. The hooks wiggled in my skin and forced hoarse screams out of my bleeding throat. 

I swallowed the blood and tried to keep the screams in, but as I did someone knew I was trying and would always find a way to force the cries out. The hooks felt infected, though I couldn’t die from the infection for some reason. I kept trying to find ways to die. Every day I tried to cut my own throat with my nails, scratching and scratching to no avail. I gargled and choked on the blood in my mouth as another tug on my cables came, one word ripped out of me, “SAMMY!” 

I heard my plea echo for hours, whispers of “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy” throbbing in my ears. I whimpered for it to stop, hearing his name echoed back at me, mocking me, was more painful than the hooks lodged deep in my rotting flesh. I closed my eyes and imagined him, taking all my strength to compartmentalize his puppy dog eyes and dimples. I perpetually remembered my little brother throwing Legos into things and crying for the prize in the cereal box, which I always gave him anyways. I remembered our stupid bickering and pranks, the time I made his hair fall out, he never got over that one. 

Suddenly I was being branded with a red hot iron right into the chest. I jolted and squirmed, my voice falling silent from too much screaming, my movement making the hooks dig deeper into me. I heard voices whisper in my head, “Your brother is gone, Sammy is gone, he’s nothing.”

I crumpled and tried to die again, wishing the hooks would just end me, praying for the pain to just end. Every time I thought of Sammy I got punished, I’d begun to notice this trend. Someone didn’t like it. It didn’t matter, if he was all I got to cling to in here then I was damn well going to cling to him. Memories are all I have, they’re the single force keeping me from whatever comes after this. 

I looked down into the darkness below me, through the bolts of lightning strikes I saw terrifying faces that looked like holocaust victims. Desolate and barren, wiped clean of their humanity, but still screaming and scraping around in a sea of themselves. I didn’t want to join them. I would rather stay on these hooks then fall down there. 

I was punished again after that thought, this time with fire. It scorched and licked at my skin, and again I screamed soundlessly, feeling my throat fill up with blood again. I gargled and choked, spitting out blood, tears falling down my dirty face. I whispered in a hushed, broken cry, “Why,”

The flames extinguished and I whimpered in relief. One of the many voices in my head made itself heard and replied, “Why?” My chest heaved up and down for the disgusting polluted air surrounding me. The voices were the stuff of nightmares. “Because, Dean Winchester, of your persistence. Your constant clinging to life. It’s irritating.” Before I could think what that meant, I was scalded with more hot iron and chains, wrapping around my torso and breaking my ribs in their grip. I somehow passed out from the shock and pain. 

 

I opened my eyes again, to the same darkness, tears running down my face, fearing another “day” or “year” or whatever amount of time it was, in this place. I couldn’t tell anymore. I had been robbed of my sense of time, everything felt eternal and everlasting and I knew I would never escape these hooks. 

I closed my eyes again, trying my hardest to remain in the soothing blackness. Slowly, a white-hot light scorched into my corneas and I screamed again in pain. The light dimmed, seemingly in response to my pain. I weakly gazed at it, feeling an unusual rush of soothing fall over my body, and for the briefest moment I couldn’t feel the hooks. That went away quickly and I screamed as I was reminded of the iron hooks. 

The light flickered, stayed a moment longer, then was gone. I repeated exactly the same routine. 

“It is so much worse than we thought.” I looked at the essence of my superior, reporting my findings on the current case. They pried for more information, so I continued, “His soul is tethered to chains, they have him on hooks, he’s being ripped apart at every moment, but… somehow he’s still in one piece.”

They all looked at me like I was lying. I spat out and continued, “I wouldn’t make this up, he’s still in one piece, just… very very damaged.” 

“Well, you’ll have to get him out as soon as possible, won’t you Castiel?”

I nodded once, “Yes, of course. I just… need more strength. He’s in a dark corner. It’s powerful torture.”

“I will grant you more power, but if you fail Castiel, the consequences will be beyond your imagination.” I complied and nodded gratefully, knowing I would not ruin my only mission from father, at all costs I would assure Dean Winchester’s soul’s freedom. 

Ever since that small light had come into my existence, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Every moment my mind raced as I tried to piece together what it could be, it was the first pleasant feeling I’d had in this place, so of course I couldn’t stop begging for it to return. I kept my eyes shut and wished with all my might for it to come back, even for the smallest moment. 

Long dragging time passed and I began to bargain and plead for the light to return. I started silently bargaining my soul for it, promising anything it wanted, in exchange for just a moment of relief. I was continually disappointed with each passing moment as it didn’t return. I knew at this point that it couldn’t have been real, it was probably a different, more sadistic type of torture. 

Through my regular branding and cable tugging, I began to sob, pitiful tears running down my face, burning my bloodshot eyes and bringing me to a new low. I had no more strength left to keep doing this, and since the brief moment of that light’s presence, everything had gotten harder to live through. The voices cackled at me and mocked my tears. I was ready to give up, I looked down at the pit, which seemed a lot more comfortable now. 

Suddenly, the burst of light returned, I squinted at it’s radiance in pain, but cried out in stunned relief. It dulled itself again, and I felt the wave of healing relief fall over me, I let out a sigh of pure ecstasy. Softly, I heard a voice, I had to jolt myself and strain to focus, in disbelief that I was hearing it. 

The voice was low and soft, with a musical quality to it. It honestly sounded like a harp amongst the screaming and nightmarish sounds surrounding me. I willed myself to focus on what it was trying to tell me, it seemed to be having a hard time. Finally I could make out my name, “Dean.”

How did it know my name? I gazed at the shimmering light, looking so brilliant in contrast with the blackness and blood surrounding it. It was so out of place. I croaked in my broken, bloodied voice, “Yes?”

It paused for a moment, and I felt the most incredible healing relief, and my throat seemed to repair itself, I no longer felt sores and tasted blood in my mouth. I knew I was dreaming. I swallowed for the first time in a century, and felt no pain, my grateful eyes gazed in wonder at this beautiful light. “How did you..?” I was actually able to talk normally now, in my natural voice. 

“I’m here to save you, Dean, you don’t belong here.”

This was the most incredible dream I’d ever had. I felt a surge of anguish in knowing it would soon end, so I desperately asked, “How? When?” I am reduced to animalistic urges, and I knew this light was warmth, and food and water. 

I ached for this light, it replied softly, “It will take a while, but I will get you out of here.”

“Where exactly is here?” Finally someone who I could talk to. 

“Hell.” There was not a moment’s hesitation in the voice. 

I gulped with my newly working throat, “Hell? But… how?”

“You don’t remember?” The voice dropped an octave in confusion. 

“Remember what?” 

It murmured to itself below what I was able to hear. I tried to move towards it, tugging on my hooks and sending a striking blow of pain throughout myself, which the light quickly numbed as I screamed. 

“Fool, don’t move.” 

“Come closer.”

The light shimmered for a moment. “I cannot.”

“Why not?” I begged for it to touch me. I swore I saw something that reminded me of a smile, then the voice continued, full of knowledge and experience, 

“You must do exactly as I say if you want to get out of here.”

I nodded obediently, “Anything.” 

“You must keep holding on, do not look at the pit below you. Stay on these hooks, no matter what you do. Promise me that.”

As hard as it was, “I promise.” 

I felt the light’s presence start to fade, and I cried out, “NO! Stay!”

“Keep holding on.”

** And like that it was gone, and my torture returned.    
**


	2. Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean meets Alistair, and discovers a hidden power.

“Dean,” the nightmarish voices crawled through the cracks in my skull, seeping into my blackened brain, filling me with screams and throbbing, stroke inducing pain. A thousand conversations were going all at once inside my head, I couldn’t focus on a single thing they were saying. Words started to strike me at random,

DISOBEDIENT 

   SIN

      STUPID

          WEAK

              IDIOT, IDIOT

                   MINDLESS SOLDIER

I screamed, begging, “Stop, stop, please!” screaming and pleading for the throbbing aneurysm to stop. Cackles resounded throughout the walls inside my skull, bouncing from one side to the other, I felt the evil laughter trickle down my body, hitting my veins like a poisonous shot of heroin. I went limp and felt the voices crawl through me, possessing me and robbing my free will of movement. 

I became paralyzed, lying on the hooks, my arms and legs splayed out as a tug of the cables yanked me in all directions. I grunted and hollered for Sam. Suddenly, so suddenly that it was painful, the voices silenced.I was left with a ringing silence in my ears. Then, 

“Calling for him won’t help you any, Dean.” 

This voice was mature amongst the screeching of demons and lower creatures. It sounded professional, even. I growled, “I don’t care, you son of a bitch.”

“What a rude way to address the mother of creation.” He cackled. 

Spending time in here made me used to pain and I didn’t give a shit at the punches they threw anymore, so I hissed, “Show yourself, bitch.” To my surprise and terror, a horrifying white essence presented itself before me. It had the outline of the kind of monster shit you see in mythological tales of demons, with the gigantic curled ram’s horns and teeth, the kind of shit Sammy and I would laugh at, but this was nothing to laugh at. 

The beast cocked it’s head at me, staring straight into my soul with it’s white hot eyes, scorching into me, causing me to hiss in pain. “You enjoy it, don’t you?” It chuckled and quickly materialized into something else. 

“Damn, you’re ugly.” 

“Yes, well maybe to a human’s dull senses.” He quickly changed into an older man, balding and in a business suit, distinguished looking. The kind of white collar man who owned his own chain of banks. He still had those white hot eyes, “Better for you?” He rolled his eyes at me. He circled me, walking on thin air, “You enjoy this, Winchester, the torture.. you love it, don’t you?”

I didn’t know how to respond, he continued, “It makes you feel like you’re owning up to all the evil things you did in life.. like you’re finally getting your punishment, hm? But it’s still doesn’t satisfy, does it?” He reached at my chest, and the touch of his fingers felt like a liquid nitrogen burn, I threw my head back in a desperate scream, ripping my throat apart again. I screamed, begging, “STOP, STOP!!” 

“That’s why I’m here, imbecile.” He took his hand off my chest, then circled again, putting his hands behind his back, pursing his lips and preparing a monologue, “What if I told you there was a way off the hooks, without falling in the pit? A bed maybe? Water?” I glared at him, knowing a lie when I heard one, he chuckled, “No, you see, I wouldn’t lie to you, Dean. Not you. Unlike many, I keep the deals I make, I pride myself in that.” He paused a moment, “The best deal you’ll find in hell, I can assure you. Don’t make the mistake your father made.”

“My father?”

“Yes, I offered this bargain to John, but he foolishly turned me down…. and he spends every waking moment in pure agony. Now Dean, what you’re experiencing now… is child’s play compared to what you will experience if you keep up this cute little act of toughness. I know you’re not even half as strong as Daddy, so please… trust my advice I’ve seen this too many times, child.” He spoke with an eery knowledge, but I didn’t care. 

“So?” he prodded.

I sucked back a breath, gathering what little saliva I had, then spat it in his face, with a grin on my face, “I don’t make deals with you bastards.” He shut his eyes and inhaled an angry sigh, wiping my spit off his face, then growling, 

“Idiotic Winchesters.”

As he left, a ripping sensation began deep in my stomach, then continued outward, and I realized I was literally being burned alive from the inside out. Oh, these tricky little games. Tears ran down my face in anguish, screaming was useless, nobody heard me and it only hurt more. Once my stomach and intestines were burned to ash, I took a glance downward and shrieked at the sight of my own ribs protruding from my torso. I closed my eyes and shook in sobs of pain. 

For a moment it stopped, I felt my bones exposed to the outside, out of their safe cocoon in my skin. I didn’t dare to look at it, the blood and gore was too intense. In the small moments between tortures, my mind hit a wall, and my consciousness collapsed. 

**  
**            Warmth, the warmth of sun baked cement against my bare skin, penetrating up through me and filling me like a cake in an oven. I felt filled with warmth and was content to die here, wrapped up in thick dryer-fresh sheets. It was like mom’s kisses when I fell down, or the reassuring hand to my forehead during a fever, the peaceful soothing sensation was unmatched with anything I could remember or describe. 

Still in this safe darkness, I felt a soft, warm touch on my torso, and I accepted the touch, even leaned into it. Through my thin eyelids I saw light, and I opened my eyes, squinting at the sun. The light was bursting everywhere, thin spindles of blue shooting off throughout this vast, endless space. I gazed at it, and it echoed through me and I was filled with the feeling of warm water trickling down my spine. 

“What are you?” My voice was heavy with gratitude and wonder. The light continued to dance around inside of me, running from my arms to my middle, leaving comfortable warmth wherever it went. I have to know what this is, it’s the most incredible feeling I’ve ever had, I repeated myself, more persistently, “Tell me what you are.”

“I can’t.” The voice sounded familiar, low and harmonious. 

My eyes fluttered in pleasure from the dancing warmth within me, “Why not?”

“It’s not for you to know.”

“Why?” I tried to look at the light, but it was inside my skin, glowing through me. “I want to at least know how to thank you for whatever it is you’re doing.”

The light beneath my skin twinkled, “I appreciate that, but I have strict orders.”

“Orders? From who?” I demanded.

“Again, not for you to know Dean.”

“How do you know my name?”

It paused in it’s response and glimmered, “I know all of your names.”

‘Your’... what was this thing? It can’t be a human. What if Sam had made some sort of deal? And this… thing was simply following orders, from Sam? Could he not appreciate my dying wish, the only thing I’ve ever asked of him?

“You’re wrong.” I blinked and stammered,

“What?”

“Your brother did not send me here. Sam has no hand in this.” 

I paused, “So… you read minds.”

“I cannot enter a guarded thought, but… you have no defenses at the moment.”

I didn’t even approach what that one meant. 

“What are you, The Riddler?”

The light continued on with it’s work. “Riddle me this, Tink, where am I right now?”

“In a dream.” How could I be dreaming? This is hell after all, right?

“Yes, it is hell, but you, Dean Winchester, are special. Only a select handful of humans can retain the power to dream. You underestimate your strength.”

We shared a moment of silence there, I had no clue what to say next. This thing had an answer for everything but none of them made a lick of sense. All I could wonder at was what the hell this was, and if I would wake up feeling as good as I felt now, or if this dream was just more hellish torture. 

“Tell me what you are, Tinkerbell.”

The light flitted around through my veins, “Tinkerbell? What is a Tinkerbell?”

“Nothing.” Another long moment of silence. 

“So… are you a part of the game? Eh? Make me feel good right now, then throw me back on the hooks? This is sick.”

    The light escaped me, and I felt it looking at me for a long moment before it responded, “No.. you are still on the hooks and this is not just a dream. I’m real, and I’m getting you out of here.”

    I stared at it, ignoring the pain in my eyes, “Tell me your name.” I used every ounce of honey sweet charm I could slick into my voice, a trick Dad taught me to get victims to tell the full story we wanted. 

    The light waned and flickered, like a screwy light bulb almost out of juice. It circled around itself a few times, I just kept gazing at it, intensifying the gaze of my eyes, knowing they were my best weapons. “Please, Tinkerbell.”

    “If you insist on calling me anything, it shant be Tinkerbell.” It seemed to grumble in some sort of odd way, then admitted finally, “My name is Castiel.” Castiel? What? I solidified the name into my memory, trying my hardest to encode the information and keep it safe. 

    “Castiel.” I repeated, blinking at the pure beautiful white light in front of me. Without a single word it started to fade and I jolted at it, reaching, “Don’t leave me!” It kept a distance and refused to come any closer. 

    “I must.”

    “Save me.”

    “I will, remember the promise you made me, Dean?”

    I dug backwards into my torn up memory, trying so hard to piece together everything that had been said on our first encounter. “Yes! Yes, stay on the meat hooks.”

    “Good, promise me that Dean, and I promise you freedom.”

    I felt myself drawn to the light like a bug, whimpering, “When are you coming back?”

    “When you dream.” 

    I wasn’t sure how, but I would find a way to make myself dream. The light caressed me once more, then was gone. I sighed in pain, lingered for a second more in this sweet emptiness, then woke again. 


	3. Glorious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years pass in hell, and Dean's will breaks.

The earth rotates and meets itself again at every year, but to all the urchins scrambling on it's surface, that time is hardly noticed, hardly accounted for except with a day count. In hell there is no day count, there is no measure of time, it rotates on an everlasting rotisserie of heat with no one keeping track of the turns it's taken or how many times it has spun around itself. Flames sustain themselves and pain regenerates, keeping every single moment alive and healthy. The cackles never tire and the darkness never swallows me whole, it stays at the threshold, taunting me with the end but never delivering.

I've learned to stop trying to count time. Time is an utterly human creation. There's no need for time down here, because everything is eternal. There is no beginning and no end, no void either. I'm a rotisserie chicken scalded and never burned. The agony begins to numb and all the tortures become mundane, I've begun to laugh at my captors, which pushes them to invent new games to play with me, but I'm never impressed. Arguably the worst part of this is the boredom, the pain becomes so unreal, but the routine is always the same. I believe that's the genius of the torture, is the repetition of it. It's like waiting in line and every time you make it to the front you get thrown to the back. I'm a domino.

As my eyes were being plucked out by gigantic metal rods, Alistair appeared, "Dean."

"Hello Alistair." This too had become routine. He circled me, like a lion circling a gazelle, as always. I screamed and flinched in pain, then was returned my sight, then poked and prodded with red hot iron on my calloused flesh. My eyes were bloodshot, my tears mingled with blood and dripped lazily down my face, my lip quivering weakly. Alistair sighed, "Is it really worth it to you?"

"Nothing you can say or do to me will ever make me torture anyone." I had to at least stand by this, if it was the last thing I did. And my faith in Castiel still held true.

Alistair burst into a fit of vicious laughter, "Nothing?! How arrogant are you Winchesters?! Do you think I'm an amateur?"

"Prove it, bitch."

And then I saw something in him break. Something in those white hot eyes snapped and suddenly my arm snapped. I hollered out in pain and jolted on my hooks, drawing them deeper into my infected, festering wounds. Following the first, my femur snapped in half and I threw my head back in a blood-curdling scream, tasting blood in my throat. I shook and cried out in pain, whimpering, "Oh... oh god...." I tried to wriggle free from the hooks in a desperate escape. The pain was too much, I was in agony, beyond agony. My leg was twisted backwards unnaturally and I could feel the bone outside of my skin.

"God, stop stop!!" I jerked myself on the hook, tearing the hook through my shoulder and making it crash into my bone, which sent another earth-shattering amount of pain through me. An inhuman scream ripped out of my body. "STOP!" Alistair laughed and grabbed my face in his scorching hands, and I felt my skin melt off my face, making me scream and cry wordlessly, ruining my voice box permanently. He moved his other hand over me and I cried out, "FINE, FINE! OKAY STOP I'LL DO IT!!"

"What was that?" He cocked his head and grinned at me.

Fuck. God dammit no, I said it. FUCK. He warned me with his hand nearing my face, I bellowed in a broken sob, "YES! YES I'LL DO IT, JUST STOP THIS!"

"As you wish." And I was gone, I snapped my head around in all directions, seeing nothing but black and for the first time seeing nothing at all. I felt no hooks, so I had to touch my shoulders to be sure, and sure enough nothing was there. No wounds, nothing. I was healed. The pain is gone. I began to sob from relief, the feeling of a moment without pain becoming too much for my body, and I quickly relapsed into shock, wrapping my arms around my legs and crying like I was a child again. Oh god, what have I just done?

Through my tears I began to whimper, "Castiel, I've done something horrible.... It... It was too much... He pushed me too hard, and I snapped. I said I wouldn't.. b-ut I snapped." My voice broke in complete shame and disappointment with myself. "I'm so weak... Castiel... I'm sorry. I tried to stay on the hooks, I," I choked on my tears, "I tr-tried, please, help me." I sat, listening, waiting to see that brilliant light. "Castiel?" I'm ashamed with myself, I can't ever look at myself again.

A soft light came from a distance, I scrambled to my feet and ran to it, stumbling weakly to regain the ability to move. I ran closer and closer, then found it was light coming from a door. I stepped through, and nearly vomited at what was before me. It wasn't Castiel. A mangled breathing corpse of a man was chained to a medieval torture wheel, his intestines lying splayed out from his abdomen in disgusting bloody gore, dripping with black liquid. His face was pure agony, staring at someone standing in front of him. The person standing in front of him was Alistair. He turned, smiling at me, "Dean!"

"So you found the place, good. I knew you were a smart one, despite the brutish language." He set down a bloody weapon he'd been holding on a table amongst other disgusting, primitive weapons of torture. He cracked his knuckles and took slow steps towards me, "Oh, you look worried." a chuckle escaped his snake like lips, "Don't be, you see," He gestured to the corpse man, "Andrew here, was a nasty sinner... A thief. And how do we treat thieves? Well," He gestured to the bloody mangled "body" of Andrew. "Just desserts. Hell is fair. Unlike the earth, hell has a set of rules that are enforced. Strictly."

He mused and continued, "They aren't difficult rules to follow either, really simple actually. It's just that humans adore breaking rules, they love it, am I right, Andrew?" Andrew bellowed in pain through the gag in his mouth. "Pain is... beautiful, it's the most direct teacher I've ever known. Pain is a lesson nobody forgets, correct?" He looked right into my eyes on that one.

I gulped back the bile I felt building in my throat from the disgust I felt, and smelled, "I won't do this."

He jumped in excitement, clapping his hands, "Ah, but you see you already agreed! And word... is contract. And people who lie, well, get pain." He glared right into my eyes and I flinched, taking a steady step backwards. He looked disgustingly giddy, like a kid on Christmas.

"You're disgusting." I felt hatred building in my chest, "The kind of sick thrill you get off this..."

"Oh of COURSE I thrill in this, Dean!! To see the righteous man fall! It's... poetry."

My eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He giggled, "Now, let's begin training, hm?"

He gestured me closer.. and I had no choice but to approach him, feeling my stomach twist into a gigantic knot.

 

"Castiel you are running out of time." The omnipotent voice boomed through me, ripping into my being.

"I've been having trouble breaking through the membrane, it's as though they know I'm there."

"We cannot allow failure. If they get him to torture, then the seal will be broken, do you not understand the importance of this, Castiel?"

I stood straighter, "Of course I do, I just,"

"No more excuses. Complete your task. You are dismissed."

I sucked in a breath, gathering every bit of strength I had within me, and fell. I broke the atmosphere quickly, falling further and harder than ever, mingling with comets and shooting downward, breaking earth's atmosphere and shooting through deeper. It was surreal each new time I flew. I hardly got to use my wings anymore because heaven had lately been at peace, up until Dean Winchester. I felt my wings stretch and propel me powerfully, gusts of air catching up with my thunder strikes as I fell faster and faster, until I landed. I closed my eyes and searched him out, searching for any sign of him.

I felt a signal from a distance downward, so I followed it, sneaking through passages and past guards and watchers. I became shadows, fitting myself into the darkest places even they couldn't see, searching for the cry that was Dean Winchester. His presence became stronger and I pushed myself closer, feeling the magnetic pull of his soul. It was so powerful. I'd never felt a soul that could remain so strong in such a soul crushing place as this. I felt my grace magnetically tug towards him, becoming addicted to the essence of it, it felt so good, like nothing I've ever felt before.

 

"Dean,"

I churned, feeling arms around me, and a warm strong heart beat. "Dean," this soft voice was in my ear, low and deep like a bass guitar. I hummed deeply in my throat, fluttering my eyes open softly, seeing the most unbelievable, otherworldly blue. It was hardly even what I could call blue, because I'd never seen a blue so pure. Blue skies and oceans had nothing on this blue, it was pure and gorgeous and true. All other blues are gray and dull in comparison. The blue was contained roughly in the outline of what appeared to be eyes, in a perfect image of a face. Like, DaVinci perfect, it looked ancient yet still exuded youth. It had high perfect cheekbones, all the correct dimensions of a nose and flawless, pink lips. It was the epitome of a god, it was better than a god. It had no color except for the blue eyes. It's entire body glowed white light, and behind it fanned out a pair of gigantic white wings.

"Oh my god."

The god shied away, dulling it's glowing white light, "I... should not have come to you like this."

"Castiel? Is this you? Is this what you really look like?"

It looked embarrassed, despite it's complete perfection. "Have I frightened you? I... was too quick to show my true form."

"No... This is... much better than a ball of light."

The outline of his body seemed to glow with silver, and he had no skin, only light, he was purely made of light, with the outline of a man. I stuttered, "You're an... angel?"

"Yes."

I wouldn't have ever believed it, except there was no denying this image in front of me. "I didn't... know they were real."

"Of course we're real." The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, only slightly. Castiel never smiled. He knelt back down to me, looking at my eyes with his penetrating blue orbs, asking permission. I didn't know what he was asking, but nodded anyways, gullible to him. He set a gentle hand on my wrist, as if he were checking my pulse, except that he began to make a motion that was almost like sewing. It felt good and warm.

"What are you doing?"

"Repairing you. You've gone through quite a lot in here, and they've tried to rip you to shreds, and very nearly succeeded."

"I'm still.. in one piece?"

"Barely."

I watched his nimble hand, then gazed up at his face. I didn't care if it was a man, he was gorgeous, I couldn't help but stare. Any human would. Again, I felt like a bug drawn to a light bulb. He continued working, then, with strain asked me, "Will you tell me what a Tinker Bell is?"

I chuckled, thinking it was hilarious that he even remembered that. "It's... well, there's a story called Peter Pan..." While he continued his work, I delved into the story of Peter Pan, emptying the pocket of knowledge in my brain that contained Peter Pan, telling him simply everything I knew about the damn kid. Every adaptation, every movie, every single aspect of the plot I could think of. After I was done, Castiel stared straight into my eyes, a little too intensely, making me uncomfortable, and he said, "A fairy?", which triggered a gigantic fit of laughter from me. After ALL of that, he was upset that he got compared to a fairy.

"Oh god, Cas."

He cocked his head to the side like dogs do. "Cas?"

"Oh, sorry, Castiel."

His lips twitched, wanting to settle into a smile, but he wouldn't let them. He replied in monotone, "That's alright."

"So when are we busting out of here?"

"As soon as possible."

"Thanks." I scoffed sarcastically. "Y'know, I'll just suffer in hell, but take your time, no rush."

"I will continue at optimal speed." The guy did not understand sarcasm, or conversation for that matter. Had he ever had a conversation? With anything?

Despite his awkwardness, and unrealistic beauty, I like this guy... angel.. thing.  


	4. Spiral Static

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's training begins and Castiel is faced with a whole slew of new challenges.

It doesn't matter how many times I watch this happen, it continues to shock me. The amount of desolation, how many layers a human body has.. the craft in destruction. I didn't appreciate before how much skill it takes to strip the layers of a person away. First, you start with obviously the skin, it's the most vulnerable outer layer, fully exposed with no defenses. Secondly, there's meat, a lot of muscle meat, the roughness of which requires sharp instruments. Soon after follows the psyche, which takes variable amounts of time on different subjects. I can't call them people anymore, calling them people hurts too much, it reminds me they had lives. Once the psyche falls the rest is simple, because then they plead for it, they bargain they beg. And the moment when I can give it to them is the moment that I can begin to breathe once more. 

It's a movie reel, an endless role of film, repeating itself with perfection. Alistair brings me a subject, I break them down, then dispose. I try so hard so avoid eye contact. As I reached for a silver blade, a blood-gargled cry shook me, "Look at me! Look me in the eyes, you bastard!" I crumpled, tightening my shoulders to keep myself from slumping to the ground. I drew in a shaking breath, closing my eyes and turning back, methodically slitting her throat. And here it comes, 

"Dean."

"Listen, I don't wanna hear it again. She's dead, okay? You get what you want."

"You're missing the point." He sighed in irritation. "You work too fast, you're not even savoring the details." He cocked his head to the side, "Dean, if you fail to keep up your end of the bargain, I am within my rights to throw you back to those dogs." He flashed me a smile and handed me a fresh screwdriver, untainted by crimson droplets. I didn't say a word, because he would win any argument I could come up with. Alistair snapped his fingers and produced a hog tied man on the floor, giving me a nod and vanishing.

Feeling myself shake, I set down the screw driver, then dropped to my knees, clasping my hands together desperately, "Cas? I can't keep doing this. I'm...." I suddenly got a brilliant idea. I can't believe I hadn't thought of this before! I reached at the table and grabbed a hammer in my hand, gulping and gritting my teeth, then giving myself a forceful blow to the head. I clenched in pain, swallowing the scream, felt my eyes flutter and then, nothing.

____________________

 _"Dean, give this to your brother."_ Dad handed me a bottle of warm milk, and I held it with a tiny hand. I walked into the living room, seeing the back of a head, with waves of blonde hair cascading down and swallowing up a pair of shoulders. I circled around the back of the huge couch, my little legs propelling me to her, then handing her the bottle. She gave me a big smile and cooed, "Thank you sweetie." She held the bottle at an angle to a tiny set of lips. I crawled onto the couch, having some trouble hoisting myself up, but making it eventually. I scooted close next to her, cuddling into her side and gazing down at the baby as it sucked hungrily at the bottle. 

I reached out to touch his face, she warned, "Careful, honey, be gentle." I slowed my hand and touched his unbelievably soft little face with my small fingertips. She smiled, "Good, Dean, very good." I felt warm inside, smiling and giggling. My voice came out very small and bouncing, "When can Sammy play cars?!" She laughed, then was joined by a hand on her shoulder from my father, a very large, dirtied rough hand. They both beamed, and Dad answered me, "It'll be a little while before he can play cars."

I squirmed and threw my bowl cut head back into the cushion of the couch, groaning, "How loooongg. What if he can play cars now and you guys just don't know?" I ran from the couch, up to my room to grab a car for Sammy, wanting to test my theory, then I felt the floor escape my feet.

_________________

"You have very nice memories, Dean." A low voice sounded over my shoulder. I snapped and flipped around, blinking at the bursting white visage of Castiel. 

I panted, overwhelmed, with a growing pain in my chest threatening me to explode. Breathlessly I demanded, stomping towards him, "What the hell was that for!?" His neck straightened and he took a step backward, confused by my sudden burst of anger. He set his hands down gently at his side, asking, genuinely confused by my emotion, "Have I upset you, Dean?"

My eyes struggled to release big soaking tears from my sockets. They raced down my flushed face as I sucked in a breath through my nose, sniffling back the pain. Castiel stared at me like a statue, only his eyes moving, following the stream of my tears like I used to watch rain drops on the car window, making secret bets on which rain drops would win the race. I attempted to speak, and explain to this toddler of a being why I was upset, or just to stop staring, but I choked and all that came out was a broken sound. 

I saw something I'd never seen on his face before; compassion. His eyebrows twisted atop his penetrating blue eyes and his head gently settled to the side, like a bird. Suddenly I felt the need to reassure him, he looked so worried. I waved him off, coughing and wiping the tears from my face with a swipe of my hand, my voice coming out like the grumble of a car engine, "It's fine." Castiel looked down at his feet like a child, then gingerly stepped forward. 

His deep voice spoke gently, "Dean, I didn't bring you to this memory to hurt you." I cast my eyes up, meeting his, blinking at his electric cyan eyes, he blinked and continued, "I did this to heal you, heal your soul. These memories are every bit a part of you as your physical being is. In order to repair you, I must try to repair your past."

I shook my head at him. "No. You can't fix anything."

"It's... not "fixing", but... coping." He tip-toed around his phrases, afraid of another outburst, which made me feel bad. "If you can accept grief and move past it, then, you'll be alright." 

"Is this what you do? Find lost causes and try to sew them up? Why? What's the point?"

He closed his lips, staring worriedly at my face for a long moment before concluding, "You lack faith, Dean Winchester." 

"I do lack faith." I nodded furiously, stepping closer to this high-and-mighty crystal ball mystic healer with no credentials, growling at him, "I lack faith because of life, look where I am, Cas! Life was shit. Life was suffering, and pain, and death. All life ever did was take my family and rip me to shreds. So I do lack faith because if there's a God he doesn't give a damn about me!" 

Castiel shook his head, shooting back, "You're so wrong, if only I could..." He lost his words and cast his eyes to the ground, looking into me with a deep, resonating absolute look in his blue eyes, "I was sent for you. By not just anybody. You are deeply important to the scheme of things, you are an integral part of everything, Dean, believe that." He held the intense gaze in my eyes, and for some reason I felt weak. 

I looked away, just now becoming aware of where we were. We stood in a field that reminded me of a meadow Sammy and I had ganked a group of demons in. The field was plentiful with green and sprouting buds of lavender and yellow, sprinkled with white flowers crawling through the high grass. We stood in a clearing where the trees ended, but circled around us in all directions, high evergreens, blocking out the world around us, allowing only leaking rays of sunlight, some of which was soaking into my skin. I took a breath in, then looked at him. 

He was surreal, a unicorn standing on the earth, making everything around him look dull in comparison. His intense white that shimmered off of him poured out in spirals of light touching and illuminating the soft meadow colors surrounding. I briefly thought of his wings, imagining them along with this image of him right now and almost laughing at how much like the cover of a fantasy novel this would look like right now. But he was oblivious of what I was thinking, just looking at me with those serious blue eyes. I broke off from the conversation, "Where are we exactly?"

"This is not my creation. We're in your memories."

I had to hear that again, "In.... In my memories?" He nodded curtly. "Literally... _inside_ my memories?"

"Yes." 

" _Jesus_ , what are you?"

"An angel." He said it so simply, as if I had asked him what color the sky was. I felt tired from all this information and sat down in the grass, pushing it to the sides as it tickled my face. I crushed it down around me and looked up at him, smiling, "You do know how to sit, don't you?" His eyebrows furrowed and for a second I wondered if he did know how. 

He sat down awkwardly, making the grass shine around him. I reached over and pounded the grass down for him, watching the look of relief touch his face when the grass was no longer in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his knees, darting his eyes from the grass to me nervously. "Thank you."

I nodded. We sat like this for a moment, until my mouth started running like it always does. "So, Cas, what's it like up there?" I gestured lazily with my shoulder upward. He thought for a moment, picking his words strategically, "It's... different for everyone. I assume you're asking from the human perspective."

"No, I was talking about for you. What's it like?"

He was caught off guard by that, blinking a few times and replying, much more naturally, "Home... It's.. my home. My family is up there, and, uh, superiors, but they're all family, just at different factions. We are all one, but I suppose.. my immediate family is the faction I am most closely related."

I wondered if he had his own Sammy up there. "What position are you in the family?"

"Oh, I'm one of the youngest. The list goes on and on, there's my brother Gabriel, I suppose he is my closest brother." 

"Hm." I looked up at the sky, trying to imagine a big feathery Brady Bunch bustling around in the clouds, and smiling at the thought. The way Cas acted made me think he was the baby of the family. He seemed very inexperienced and new to all of this, it gave him charm. It was charming the way he fumbled through social interactions, awkwardly trying to appear as normal as he could to me. 

I bit my lip, feeling the silence get heavier. I didn't know how to ask him, but tried, "Cas?"

"Yes?"

"Can..." oh god, angel etiquette?, "Will.. you.."

"What Dean?" He smirked, his outline of hair blowing over his eyes, making him even more intimidating. 

"Will you show me your wings?" I blurted it out all at once, like word vomit. 

He lowered his chin, looking at the grass in front of him, then grinned a tiny little smile at me, chuckling, "Why?"

"I... Sorry, I didn't mean to.. offend you, or anything."

"No, I'm.. not offended." His fingers danced around his knee cap, cocking his head at me and waiting for my answer. 

I gulped, tip-toeing around what to say, "They... I saw them..for a brief second before and, they were.. b-beau..." I growled, "Big." 

He smiled that small little smile, his blue eyes darting away from mine, "I s-suppose... if you want to see them...." He looked away from me, then rolled his shoulders like a cat and I watched gigantic white wings materialize in front of me like pixels on a computer, appearing feather by feather. They shot up out of his shoulders, casting a huge shadow out behind him, hovering over his body like a canopy of downy white. 

I stuttered for something to say, my mouth open stupidly, gazing at the gigantic canopy of wings. His wingspan had to be at least twelve feet from feather to feather. I reached up without thinking and touched a grouping of feathers very gently, afraid to hurt him somehow, like a soft little bird. His face melted as I touched it, like a cat getting scratched behind the ears. His eyebrows raised and his face fell into a stupor of calm that I'd never seen on him before. 

I stroked a white feather gently and suddenly Cas was on my shoulder. I blushed, because he seemed outside of himself, completely driven by whatever sensation was so good in his wing. I dug my fingers a little deeper into a clump of feathers, ruffling them up then petting them back into place. Castiel was incapacitated. Jeez, who knew it was so easy to tame a warrior of heaven like a simple house cat. 

He rumbled, and I swear he was purring. I looked down a the mess of hair on his head and smiled, maybe Castiel needed some healing too. His wings lowered to hover around us like big lazy blankets, and I felt feathers mash into my side. We sat in this meadow like this, a big lazy angel at my side, hugging his giant wings around me and I reminded myself this was a dream. 

Cas' voice was lower than usual, "I've never showed a human my wings before."

I countered, "I've never pet an angel's feathers before."

He grumbled and I felt his wing tighten, begging to be touched. I blushed and smirked, "Alright, alright." 

He closed his eyes and we continued on like this for immeasurable amounts of time before Castiel drew his wings back, making them disappear, sitting stick straight and returning to monotone, "I apologize, that was incredibly inappropriate of me." I don't understand him. 

"Hey, I don't care." We stared at each other for a long moment before Cas tried to beam out, but I snatched his hand, begging, "Stay?"

He looked at my face for a long moment, "I shouldn't... I've stayed too long already."

"But..." I felt like a teenager arguing for just five more minutes of sleep, "Nothing hurts when you're here..."

His expression softened, "Dean..."

"Cas, stay... just a little longer?"

He reached up to my face to gently run his fingers down my stubbly cheek, making us both blush and stiffen. I think we both snapped out of ourselves and realized just exactly what we were doing and what had just happened between us. We each stammered backwards, and before I could stutter to rebuff him, or he could struggle for an explanation, he was gone. And the emptiness crushed around me. 


	5. Us and Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has given in, and Castiel is trapped in a cage.

_I'm sorry for whatever I did wrong, I didn't mean for it to push you away. I just... whatever I need to do... come back, Cas._

I bowed my head down in a submissive nod, casting my embarrassed eyes up at my superior. She gnarled her face into a grimace, shaking her head in a fury, "What have you done, Castiel!? Do you deliberately try to undo the fabric of our Father's plans?!" She raised a fist at me, and I flinched, backing away. She took in a breath, "You are not to see Dean Winchester anymore. He will be reassigned, and you will return to your normal duties."

"No!" The exclamation escaped me so reflexively, before I had time to draw it back from the depths. I gulped and stammered to explain myself, apologizing, "I am sorry for that outburst... but, Naomi... I can handle this. I had a moment of weakness, I never knew that... they could..." I thought of when he touched my wings, then shivered, returning to the present, "I had a moment of weakness." I repeated, concluding, "It will not happen again, I assure that I can carry on with this task. Please?"

She narrowed her eyes at me, "I will consider it. Until then, you are not to return to him." I assumed this was my time taken aside for shaming and punishing myself. She gave me a dismissive nod and I nodded back respectfully, then ran to my corner of heaven. I settled into myself and began the process of moral punishment. I clasped my hands together and began to repent for my sins.... "Father in Heaven, I do repent for....

His eyes, his freckles splattered and messily etched across the canvas of his gorgeous, shimmering soul....

"the sin of indulgence...

His long, graceful fingers stroking through my clumps of pure white feathers, the way sensations shot through me... sinful sensations. 

"the sin of the flesh....

Of his flesh, his perfect, tanned and freckled flesh that exuded warmth and softness despite the years of scars upon it. 

"the sin of....

I stopped myself at that, remembering how I touched his cheek, and how we both realized it had suddenly become an intimate touch. Why did we both  _know_ that? I hadn't intended it to be intimate, even remotely. I had intended to comfort him and promise I would return, because he had been pleading. Yet, the moment my fingers touched his face, some sort of explosion happened in the air around us and we both knew to back away, to erase it from history, pretend we didn't feel the explosion all around us, catching our gravitational pull and hanging on. Why did we know that?

Faintly, a foggy static began to rise in my ear. This was new, I was used to prayers, we all tuned in and shared them from time to time, having so much to listen to constantly. This, though, this was new, I had never been personally addressed in a prayer. He called me out specifically, and when that bond was created, there are few forces in heaven or earth that can tear it apart. By calling my name, Dean had (unknowingly) marked me as his, 

 _Castiel, please, it's getting worse in here, the tortures more intense. Alistair is making me do things.... I can't even..._ The prayer lost strength, then started up again,  _Cas come back, I'm sorry for whatever happened in the meadow that you're upset about. I didn't mean to push you, and I'm sorry for touching your wings... that was probably a step too far. I'm... I just need you. I need you Cas._

I felt something odd in my chest fluttering and faltering, like a bird with a clipped wing. It flew around in a circle then fell, scrambling back up to fly again and tripping. My grace quivered. I had always been warned to see a higher angel if this began to happen, they never explained why or what this was... but colorfully illustrated that it was a disease of the character, a deadly one. I stood to take myself to the infirmary to be checked for this illness, but static interrupted, 

_Cas, can you hear me?_

He hit me like a punch to the stomach and I fell back to my sitting position, crumbled. Why did I quiver like this? What was Dean doing to me? I felt weak but strong and shaky all over, yet warm somehow. I raised a hand to my head, begging "stop,stop", as long as I'm not permitted to go back to Dean I couldn't deal with his prayers. I crawled into the very furthest corner of my heaven and tried to shut off from the outside, slowly pounding my forehead against the wall to get this illness out. 

__________________________

Faith? Ha, hilarious. What kind of faith is it to pray constantly, every day several times a day when you're never answered? I've been ignored for endless amounts of time, as I continue throughout my miserable existence, begging just for a reply that never comes. If he even was real, he's a bastard. I'm starting to understand that it was all just a big cruel joke of Hell, another torture to join the thousands. Castiel was made up, he was a torture devised by some evil mastermind. Dreaming? How stupid was I to believe I could dream in here?

It really was brilliantly laid out, creating a beautiful little beam of light in this pit, taking every last bit of my hope and crushing it. Really exquisitely crafted. The meadow, the dreaming, the promise of escape, the healing.... an angel? Idiot. They don't exist, I always knew they didn't exist, but this puppet master had me fooled so well. Truth is they probably put some enchantment on me, or shoved a demon into an angel suit, laughing and toying with me, working me into not only believing this Castiel was real, but that he would  _save me._ Brilliant. 

Alistair arrived with a fresh victim, and I started the days work. 

_________________________

"Naomi, please, he's falling even harder than before. I need to return, he needs me. He needs guidance."

"You've fallen too, Castiel. Far."

I cocked my head at that, "What?"

"I know how you think of him, how you look at him. This is not just work to you anymore. You've got the illness and you're making it personal."

"I have no illness."

"Oh, really?" She chuckled knowingly at me. "I can smell it all over you."

Suddenly two pairs of hands grabbed my arms, and I was restrained. I darted my head up at two large angels I faintly recognized as distant kin. They were in large suits, which showed their rank, which was extremely high. Naomi nodded to them, and I screamed, "Naomi! You're wrong! What you're doing is wrong! I have to save him!!" She ignored me entirely, nodding to the large suited men holding me back, calmly giving orders, "Take him to the infirmary, ninth ward." I stared at her in disbelief, feeling like I'd just been hit by a comet. She betrayed me, she didn't listen to me, and now she was sending me away to be locked up.

With the stinging blows of betrayal fresh in me, I squirmed in their grasp and bellowed, "You understand nothing of Father's work! You follow your own agenda and you sin to the highest degree, and I will end your tyranny." My eyes became misty with powerful emotion, completely newly found emotion, and my voice became dark, "I will end you." She raised her eyebrows at that, looking genuinely scared for a moment. She snapped at her large attack dogs in suits and gulped, "Take him away." 

I thrashed in their arms, fighting and yelling to be set free. I got one arm free, then burst into a ferocious fit of fury, expanding my wings as quickly as possible and shooting down to Dean. I flew as fast as I could, but before I could escape Heaven's gates, I was caught by a chain and yanked backwards, breaking my wing in the process. I screamed in pain and fell limply backwards into the arms of Naomi's attack dogs. 

I shook in shock and pain, while they took me directly where Naomi had said, carelessly dragging my broken wing alongside. 

_______________________

Blood, thick curdling blood dripped down the blade I held in front of my face. I smiled, wiping it off, restoring it to it's natural beauty. The weapons are all I care about anymore. Maintaining them, keeping them in working condition, in beautiful condition. I even began to name them, and lay them out in a specific order so I know exactly where to grab at any given moment. Alistair was very impressed with my work, he appeared behind me and clasped a hand on my shoulder, "I always knew you had it in you, Winchester."

I nodded and continued my work, walking away from his touch. Alistair bothered me significantly less now, because the only thing I could think about was how much I hated Castiel. All of my energy was focused on my work now, and every day I remembered the day in the meadow and I took out every bit of fury I felt towards "the angel" on these bodies. I tortured them the way I wished I could grab Castiel, the way I would make him regret doing this to me, playing with me, making me think there was hope and twisting me so far beyond recognizable. I would make him pay if I ever got a hold of him, if he was anything other than a memory. 

______________________

"Castiel," I bobbed my head around weakly, glancing through heavily drugged, sagging eyelids. What had they done to me? I opened my eyes slowly, having a difficult time with keeping them focused, but slowly I saw through a blurred tunnel a large white lump of feathers lying out on my side, with rods and castes set onto it. I reeled my eyes around in the other direction, seeing a metal chain on my wrist, then moved it, feeling the restraint and groaning in discomfort. 

"Castiel." I opened my lazy eyes again, the tunnel becoming slowly larger, but still not large enough to focus fully. I tried to form words on my lips but all that came out was mumbled Enochian. I slowly recognized the face as Naomi's and I jolted in my chains, struggling and gnarling at her. She jumped backward a little, startled by my reaction to her. "Don't do that, you'll dislodge your wing." I cast my fogged vision to the side, seeing the white feathers again, and tried to flex and gasped in pain as I realized, yes, indeed that was my own injured wing. This only made the anger bubble at a hotter temperature within me. A healer stepped into the room and Naomi stepped aside, standing at the other side of my bed. 

The healer reached down for my wing, touching it with her healing white grace. I felt relief wash over me as she touched me and tried to say thank you. She nodded at me, understanding me apparently despite the lack of speech present. I began to use my mind to speak, just now remembering I could. With my lips shut, I gnarled at Naomi, _"How dare you show yourself here. You're the reason I'm lying here."_

She replied with her mouth, "Me? It's not my fault you were disobedient and foolishly tried to escape. Where did you think you would go Castiel?"

_"To Dean."_

"Dean is gone Castiel. He is too far in the torture, Hell has corrupted him too far."

I shook my head weakly, struggling for breath, _"I don't believe you."_ I struggled again against my chains,  _"Is this absolutely necessary? Your own brother, Naomi? You treat me like a prisoner in my own home."_ I'd never felt this level of vengeance or anger towards any being before and it was very powerful... and completely non-angelic of me. Maybe this is what Naomi feared. 

"Dean is corrupted, and you are falling too, I cannot risk losing one of my best soldiers for the soul of a human."

I suddenly found the strength to use my lips, "Dean is not just some human soul. His soul is radiant... and powerful." 

She shook her head and dismissed me, commenting with venom, "Heal well, Castiel." I watched her leave and my wings clenched in anger, to which I cried out in pain. I felt every single break in my wing and felt pain trickle and pool in my wing. The healer gasped and hurried her pace, spreading more of her grace throughout my wing. I became slack with relief, settling back into my bed. I looked at her with gratitude, "Thank you."

"No, thank you..." I cocked my head at her in confusion. 

"For?"

"Sticking up to Naomi. She's a tyrant." I hadn't realized others understood. I suddenly caught interest in this sweet little angel's eyes. 

"You believe so too?"

"She orders everyone around, and I've heard discussion that she's building a secret army." 

What? That was unheard of in these times. We all stood together as a unit. Naomi simply couldn't  _do_ that. I would worry about this later, though, Naomi was not my top priority. If anything she said about Dean was true I would have to escape quickly. I leaned over to my healer angel, murmuring, "You wouldn't happen to know where the keys for these are... would you?" I moved my wrists, making the chains jingle. She looked up at me with big innocent green eyes, then back down at my wrists. She was obviously an empathetic little thing because I watched the conflict arise in her thickly lashed green eyes as they fluttered back and forth, trying to decipher what was the right thing to do.

"I've committed no crime. I don't know what they told you, but, I was only trying to do my job, then things got... complicated." 

She nodded, "I've heard stories about you, Castiel. You're even better in real life." She smiled bashfully. 

I hadn't realized there were stories about me, so I bashfully replied, "Oh... th-thank you." 

She blinked her big innocent eyes, folding her hands together, "I'll... g-get you some.. food." She stressed the word food, which was almost comical if she had not been trying so hard to be sneaky. I beamed at her, being reminded of how much I loved fledgling angels. They were so trusting and innocent, much like I struggled to maintain. I lied on my back and felt my grace pinned, drugged and held to this spot. Then my mind drifted to Dean... I hoped with all my might Naomi's words were not true. Not Dean, he was too strong. He wouldn't fall like that, not to torture... 

Then again, I could see the violent sparkle in his eyes, the way they became dark just around the ridges of his pupil, the yellowish gold stains in the otherwise emerald green crystals. I knew he was a hunter, he'd killed many things, but always for the right reasons. Dean's moral code was as strict as mine. He wouldn't slip... he was much too hard on himself. If he had... I can't imagine the psychological torture it took to get him to break like that. But I waved away the thoughts, trying to focus now on escape.

A couple minutes later the angel returned and pulled a large key out of her pocket, I sighed in relief, "Thank you so much. What is your name?"

She blushed, "Chastity." I thought that was ironic, considering how gorgeous she was and the sheer amount of angels that would love to mate with her, I'm sure. I smiled and nodded. That also made sense why she exuded such light and innocence. She released me from the cuffs, and I tried to get up and stretch, but she pushed me back gently, "You are not well. You cannot fly, Castiel."

I knew she was right but I tried to stretch my wing again, using my own healing power on myself, "I should be fine in a few hours."

"Castiel, stay. Let me heal you." I looked up at her big eyes, eyes that reminded me of another pair of green eyes. I looked at them for a long moment, then looked down, agreeing and letting her touch my shattered wing. 

_______________________

_Cas, please.... I'm not angry anymore, I just... I need to know that you're real... that you weren't just a torture._

_I have to get out of here, Cas._ Tears began to fall from my eyes, I crumpled, _I can't do it anymore. Every person I torture... It's tearing me apart. Every time I wake up I wake up with less of myself... I can feel it. I can feel the darkness becoming me, I'm adjusting to the light down here, my eyes don't hurt anymore, my skin is starting to smell like everything around here... I can breathe easier, I'm becoming this place... Cas, I need... I need to stay me. I have to get back, to Sammy... He needs me, hell, I need him._

_Castiel, please, come back._


End file.
